Tis No Sin For A

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

Set We Forward; Let A Roman And A British Ensign Wave Friendly Together. So Through Lud's Town March, And In The Temple Of The Great Jupiter Our Peace We'll Ratify, Seal It With Feasts. Set On There! Never Was A War Did Cease, Ere Bloody Hands Were Washed, With Such A Peace.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

Tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich.

Should The Poor Be Flattered? No; Let The Candied Tongue Lick Absurd Pomp, And Crook The Pregnant Hinges Of The Knee Where Thrift May Follow Fawning.